Sticky Mouths Make Sticky Kisses
by Loozie Gordork
Summary: Short, fluffy L/G ficlet. Lizzie’s sick, Gordo’s at the carnival, and brings her some cotton candy afterwards. Things get a bit sticky between the two. Slight AU: no movie. Cute and to the point, with major L/G. R&R? Please? :)
1. Sticky Kisses

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Sticky Mouths Make Sticky Kisses

Summary: Short, fluffy L/G ficlet. Lizzie's sick, Gordo's at the carnival, and brings her some cotton candy afterwards. Things get a bit sticky between the two. Slight AU: no movie. Cute and to the point, with major L/G. R&R please. Tell me if I should continue. 

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A/N 1: Hey! My first Lizzie McGuire story. Yay! I wrote this in like… an hour, so it's really short. Plus, I don't have a beta-reader. I felt like I made Lizzie and Gordo out of character, but as hard as I tried, I couldn't get them any better. Hmm… Oh well. Enjoy anyway!

I, Lizzie McGuire, vow never to get sick again. I've decided that I hate it; I hate everything from the sweaty, uncomfortable feeling, to the missing school. Especially when that school day just happens to be the long-planned fieldtrip to the sojourning carnival. And the thing that really, really ticks me off, is when my friends call from that carnival and tell me how much fun they're having.

And I'm stuck in bed, puking my guts out and trying to keep down saltine crackers.

I looked out the window, where the sun was shining brightly. Great. Just great. It's the perfect day to get the perfect tan, and I can't even go outside!

At that moment the telephone rang and I looked over at the caller ID, where I recognized the number as Gordo's cell phone. I hesitated to answer it, then picked up the receiver; after all, he had taken the time to call and hadn't forgotten about me.

"Lizzie!" Gordo yelled over the noise. I heard an up-and-down, up-and-down vibration in the background and could distinctly hear Miranda's wild shrieks over everything else.

"Moon bounce?" I asked, not able to hold back my grin. Despite the fact that we would soon be ending our first year of high school, Miranda's inner child shone through clearly, with her favorite thing to do at a carnival consisting of bare feet and a bouncy tent.

"Yep," Gordo said. "So how're you doing? Feeling any better?"

"No. As miserable as ever."

"Sorry," he said, sounding truly apologetic. "I really wish you were here. It would make the day perfect."

I sighed heavily. "Trust me, I wish I were there, too. Of all days I had to get sick it just _had_ to be the least boring school day of the whole entire year."

"I know, I—"

"Gordo! Come _on_!" I heard another voice through the phone, and a rustling and bumping of something.

"Lizzie, I'm really sorry, but I have to go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling dejected. "Oh, and Gordo?"

"Way ahead of you, McGuire. I'll bring you your cotton candy as soon as I get back."

I smiled and hung up the phone, feeling slightly better. Gordo had that affect on me.

The alarm clock on my bedside table glowed one o'clock—a whole hour and a half before school was out. I turned over, feeling frustrated and bothered, when I felt something sharp poke my leg. Jerking back, I looked at the foot of my bed, where my new yearbook lay. I had gotten it the day before at the annual yearbook signing, signaling only one week to go before finals and, finally, the start of summer.

I reached down and propped the book open on my lap, flipping through the pages I had practically memorized at school the day before. I was proud; this year, I was in the yearbook a whopping twelve times. I looked through the pictures of my grade, stopping when I got to the G's, and most particularly, David Gordon.

I had to admit, it _was_ a good picture, and Gordo… Gordo, well, looked cute. I know, I know; of all people, his best friend should be the last one saying he was cute. But it was the truth, and before long, I couldn't help but think how much he had changed this past year. Without thinking, I picked up a pen from my table and drew a heart around Gordo's picture.

Maybe I should see a doctor. I've heard of a lot of weird symptoms before, but I never knew insanity was one of them.

Suddenly feeling much more elated than a sick person should, I pushed the yearbook to the side and promptly fell asleep.

"Lizzie. Lizzie! McGuire, wake up!

My eyelids fluttered open and I saw my reflection mirrored twice in a pair of bright blue eyes.

"Gordo?" I mumbled, struggling to sit up.

"No, no, no," he said, pushing me right back down. "Don't get up. You're sick."

I was sweaty and hot, but momentarily soothed when Gordo's cool hand brushed my clammy bangs away from my face. He smiled down at me, patted my head, and pulled a chair up to my bed.

I stretched and sat up just a little further under the watchful eye of Gordo, before looking over at my clock again. "It's six already? How long have you been sitting there?"

Gordo shrugged modestly, avoiding my gaze. "An hour. Two. Three. And a half."

I felt my eyebrows shoot up. "_That_ long? Gordo, you should have woken me up sooner!"

He shrugged again. "That's okay. You're sick; you need your rest. Besides, I found ways to occupy myself."

His eyes shot to the floor and back, almost too quickly for me to catch. I looked down, too, and saw my now closed yearbook.

"Oh," I said, feeling my face catch fire and radiate heat. I had left it open to his picture… to the picture I had drawn a heart around.

"Anyway," he mended quickly, "here you go." He handed me a clear bag filled with fluffy pink cotton candy, my favorite kind.

I grinned and took it from him, untying the bag and digging in. "I'm probably going to throw this right bag up in an hour," I said, licking my gluey fingers, "but right now, I can't think of anything better than some good old cotton candy."

"You may want to get a shower when you're done hanging over the toilet," Gordo laughed. "You've gotten cotton candy all around your mouth. You look sticky."

"I feel sticky." In any case, that didn't seem to bother me. I continued eating, until— "Gordo!"

"What?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed and looking worried. "Are you okay? Are you going to vomit? Do you need—"

"No! Your necklace!"

He felt his neck, his expression clearing when he felt the candy necklace hanging, the kind where you bit the little round hoops off of the string.

"Want some?" he offered.

I nodded, sitting fully up as he sat on the edge of my bed. He leaned in as far as he could and I did the same, both of us forgetting that I was contagious and dangerous. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a place I wasn't using to think with right at that moment, I briefly wondered why he didn't just take the necklace off and let me bite it from there.

In any case, I didn't care, and enclosed my mouth on a piece of candy. Being that close to Gordo should be made illegal; my stomach flip-flopped, and for a moment I thought I was going to have to run to the bathroom again. Then I realized I liked the feeling. And—wait, since when did Gordo wear aftershave? Since when did Gordo _shave_?

My sticky lips moved across the skin of Gordo's neck as I cautiously broke the candy with my teeth, making sure all the sugary pieces fell into my mouth. Normally I would have pulled away, but I broke down the candy further, with string and all, until there was nothing left but a sweet taste in my mouth. I was really enjoying this more than I should.

Somewhat hesitantly, I let go of the string, and it sprung back into place around Gordo's neck; it was wet where I had touched it, and I saw it visibly made him shiver when it came into contact with him.

I was confused. Really, really lost. Beyond mystified and bewilderment. One minute I was enjoying some time with my best friend while eating cotton candy, and the next thing I knew I was staring at his neck. Yes, that's right, I still hadn't moved. Neither had he.

Almost as though he read my thoughts, his head moved slightly, but not enough so that I could see his eyes or have any idea of what he was thinking. As if I had no control over anything I was doing—I didn't, honest!—I moved my lips slowly along his neck, hardly touching him, but close enough so I could feel the Goosebumps that spread across his skin.

I was at his chin now and too far gone to stop—stop _what_? What the _hell_ was I doing? I found out soon enough, but for the life of me couldn't figure out where I gathered the courage to plant my mouth on his, or why the hell it felt so damn good.

I was no longer Lizzie McGuire. I was some madwoman who just happened to be in a fifteen-year-old body. There was no way that the slightly dirky, somewhat clumsy Lizzie would ever in a _million years_ kiss her best friend. And yet here I was, doing just that.

Someone call the doctor, Miss McGuire has lost her mind.

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A/N 2: The end! Tell me if I should post another chapter. I have some good ideas, but if you don't like it, I'll stop here.

Sneeze on a penguin,

Loozie Gordork


	2. Things Get Sticky

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Sticky Mouths Make Sticky Kisses

Summary: Short, fluffy L/G ficlet. Lizzie's sick, Gordo's at the carnival, and brings her some cotton candy afterwards. Things get a bit sticky between the two. Slight AU: no movie. Cute and to the point, with major L/G. R&R please. Tell me if I should continue. 

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A/N 1: Thanks you guys **so much **for all your great reviews! You made me BEYOND happy. I never thought anyone would like it so much. I was hoping to at least get five reviews, and I get on and there are thirty! Thanks again! Eeh!

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Warning: There are MAJOR dosages of sweet fluff, so be careful or you'll choke and get cavities. Gets a bit dramatic, too. Oops.

I, David Gordon, vow to buy a candy necklace every day for the rest of my life if it means Lizzie will kiss me every time I do. I had waited four long years for this kiss, and now that it was happening, I was unraveling the situation to it's best. A simple brush of the lips had turned into a hot, passionate make-out extravaganza, and both Lizzie and I were enjoying it like we had never enjoyed anything else before. Or, at least that's how it was playing in my head. In reality, things weren't going as well.

I had never really _kiss_ kissed anybody. Sure, I'd been in a few lip-locks with a girl or two this past year, but nothing to give me any practice or knowledge that I was doing the right thing. I didn't know where to put my hands and finally settled on keeping them in my lap; I almost lost my balance, trying to stay in the chair and lean in far enough so I didn't break the kiss. Chaos would ensue as soon as I did.

And how far was I supposed to go? How far did Lizzie _want_ me to go? She seemed as confused as I was. As a potential dirk who cares more about grades than the opposite sex, I can't read girls as well as Ethan Craft. But Lizzie was different; she was my best friend. I could read her like a book, and right now, she had just reached the point where the story could split into two different directions. By the small movements she was making, I knew she was trying to decide if she should break it off or not. This kiss was an accident—so why wouldn't she?

Maybe I should get some books out on this. Was I supposed to think this much while kissing? What was that buzzing noise in my head? Why is my stomach suddenly melted butter? Is it normal to over-analyze interaction with your best friend?

This was too weird. I had kissed Lizzie before, sure. But that was when we were little and were playing Lizzie's favorite game, White Wedding, and she would chase me around the yard until my face was shoved in dirt and she was giving me a kiss with her tiny lollypop-smeared mouth.

This kiss felt like déjà vu. Her mouth was sticky yet again, and she smelled of the sugar she had just consumed. Except now I wasn't trying to avoid her or any cooties she might obtain; now I was—Oh God. What was I getting myself into?

I felt her stiffen in surprise. Or maybe it was fear. Or laughter. Was I doing it wrong? Wasn't I _supposed_ to put my tongue in her mouth like that and—

Get a grip on yourself, David! Just relax and follow your instincts, and everything will be fine. It's just a kiss. A simple kiss.

Yes, I was _kissing_ my best friend, Lizzie McGuire. I bet you didn't see that one coming.

"Lizzie! We're home!"

Lizzie and I pulled away, feeling the small suction as her sticky lips were peeled off mine. We jumped away from each other faster than I thought possible, and in consequence the chair I was sitting in flew backwards and I tumbled out of it with a bang.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," I heard Lizzie muttering under her breath, as footsteps pounded on the stairs. A moment later her bedroom door was thrown open, and Mrs. McGuire was standing in the doorway.

"Is everything okay? What was that noise?" she asked worriedly.

I groaned, picking myself up from the floor and rubbing my back. "Sorry, Mrs. McGuire. My chair fell backwards."

"Are you okay?" she demanded in her motherly tone, looking me up and down.

"Uh…yeah, I'm fine," I lied. My heart was thumping a million miles per hour. Could Mrs. McGuire tell? Did she notice?

I licked my lips, tasting cotton candy, and looked over at Lizzie. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed to be struggling for words, her mouth opening and closing several times, red and slightly puffy from me. From _me_. From _me_ kissing _her_. What was really strange was the sense of proud satisfaction that bubbled under my skin, knowing I had done that to her.

"Okay, well I'll leave you kids alone," Mrs. McGuire said. "You're welcome to stay for dinner, Gordo, if you don't mind eating without Lizzie at the table."

"Thank you for the invite, Mrs. McGuire, but I should be going now, anyway. Lizzie needs her rest."

She nodded and after a quick temperature check of Lizzie's forehead, she headed downstairs to start cooking.

I looked back at Lizzie, who was staring at me. I could see her eyes widening and her jaw dropping—she was about to burst into full panic-attack mode. I needed to get out of here before I was thrown right into the middle.

"Well, I better leave, so I hope you feel better, McGuire, I had a great time and maybe we can do it again. Okay? Okay. Bye!" I said in all one breath. I made for the door as quickly as possible, when—

"Gordo!" Lizzie practically yelled, and I stopped in my tracks.

I turned back to her. "Y-yeah?"

"Well?" she said expectantly, after a moment's silence. "Aren't you going to say something?"

What was I _supposed_ to say? 'Lizzie, I've liked you for a really, really long time. I enjoyed the kiss. Wanna do it again?' I didn't think _that_ would go over too well.

"I—I—you taste like cotton candy," I ended lamely, then was out the door before she could say something to humiliate me.

The wet feeling of my necklace where her mouth had been ten minutes before rubbed against my skin the whole way home.

The good thing about a rainy Saturday morning is you get lots of time to stay in and think. The bad thing about a rainy Saturday morning is that you get to think about things you don't _want_ to be thinking about. Right now, I was trying to avoid thinking about two things: the kiss I had shared with Lizzie the night before, and the results of that kiss that were more internal than I would have been able to guess.

I looked over at the empty bucket next to my bed, just waiting to be filled with my vomit. Oh joy.

I sighed, picking up the remote control to my television and turning it on. It was either that or study for finals, and I didn't think I'd be able to concentrate on the Shanghai Dynasty for very long without certain unwanted-yet-unavoidable-thoughts overwhelming me.

I changed the channel. Sappy romance movie. Just what I needed.

Click. Lifetime Story: Love At First Sight. Even better.

Click. The Maury Show. 'From Best Friend To Lover.'

I groaned, turning the TV back off. It was inevitable. There was no escaping her.

Truthfully, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Thinking about Lizzie was never bad thing. In fact—

"_Gordo_!"

I jumped, looking up to find a very angry and rain-soaked Miranda Sanchez standing in my doorway. "Uh…Miranda, what are you doing here?"

"What am _I _doing here? What am _I_ doing here?!" she shrieked, reaching tone's I never thought possible. "Porque yo tengo no derecha, si? El nervio!"

I had seen Miranda get annoyed enough to shout something in Spanish, but never to ramble, especially not at me. Moral learned: Spanish-rambling Miranda is never a good thing. I pretended to be listening, nodding remorsefully every now and then, while privately wondering what kind of shampoo Lizzie used.

"…Llevar mi?" Miranda was saying when I snapped back to attention. She was very red in the face by now.

"No hablo espanol?" I asked hopefully.

"Oh me dios! Gordo, you _kissed_ Lizzie and didn't call to tell me about it!" Miranda yelled. "What's the matter with you?"

"I didn't know—wait, I didn't kiss Lizzie! Lizzie kissed me!" I snapped in my defense.

"What's the difference? You still kissed each other and didn't call!"

"Didn't we already have this conversation when I was dating Brooke?"

"Brooke Baker and Elizabeth McGuire are _not_ the same things!"

"Okay, I'll give you that one," I admitted reluctantly. "But it's still my personal life, isn't it? 'My' being the keyword there."

Miranda furrowed her eyebrows. "Gordo, you don't _have_ a personal life. You tell Lizzie and me everything!"

"And if you had given me some time—try, twenty-four hours—I would have told you about this, too. You're my best friend, I wouldn't keep anything from you! I would have told you that I like her, _really_ like her, and that I wouldn't mind having her as my girlfriend. I, David Gordon, am head-over-heels in like with—"

"Hey!"

This let's-scare-Gordo thing was really starting to annoy me, especially since I hadn't been in the mood to begin with. If it hadn't been Lizzie who had walked in, I would have shouted a very reproachful "GET OUT!" and that would be that. As it was, I gritted my teeth and stared grumpily at my quilt as Miranda uttered a cheery, "Hey, Lizzie!"

"H-hey Gordo!" Lizzie said, just as cheerful as Miranda, if not a bit shaky.

"Hi," I grunted, still not looking up.

"What's wrong with him?" I heard Lizzie hiss to Miranda.

"He just threw up again," she whispered back.

"Oh." Lizzie cleared her throat, now speaking normal volume. "Well, I um…was hoping to get to talk to Miranda in private, but Mrs. Sanchez said she was here, so…can I talk to you for a minute, Miranda?"

I looked up now, to see Miranda nodding. "We'll be right back, Gordo."

They went into the hallway and closed the door behind them, and I could hear hushed whispering, though I couldn't understand it. I was beginning to get bored and wonder what was so important that they couldn't talk about in front of me, when—

"…Ethan and Gordo!" Lizzie said a little too loudly, only to be shushed by Miranda.

Don't get me wrong. I respect my friends' privacy in every which way, more so than you think a best friend would. But as soon as I heard my name, I tiptoed out of bed and placed my ear against the door, hoping to get a gist of what they were saying.

"He'll never like me, Miranda," Lizzie was saying dejectedly. "I'm not good enough for him."

"Don't say that, Lizzie! You two are perfect for each other!"

I noticed how my heart raced a little at that. Were they talking about me?

"Yeah, right. He's funny and sweet and nice and _so cute_—"

My face fell. There was only one person who was 'so cute' in Lizzie's book—and that person was Ethan Craft.

"Lizzie, take my advice. Don't worry about it. He likes you back, I know he does. Just give him some time. He'll come around."

I heard them shuffling towards my bedroom and hopped back into bed as quickly as I could, feeling a lot worse than I had five minutes ago. Lizzie and Miranda walked in a second later.

"Hey guys," I said, my voice sounding surprisingly calm to my ears. I had never felt so…empty inside. What did it matter that Lizzie still liked Ethan? I didn't care. At least…I didn't want to care. "How about some movies?"

Miranda grinned. "Great! I'll get the popcorn, Lizzie can get the movies, and Gordo…Gordo, you can sit there and be sick." She bounced out of the room and down the stairs, leaving Lizzie and me by ourselves for the first time since I had left her house yesterday afternoon.

"So…" I said.

"So," she repeated. She avoided my eyes, biting her lip as she looked around my room. Would it be like this every time we were together now?

"What movie should we watch?" she continued hastily.

She dropped to her knees in front of the movie collection by my TV, sorting through them. "How about a comedy? Or a romance?" She pulled out an anonymous tape and looked at the back cover, reading the storyline. She sighed softly. "I wish someone would love _me_ like that," she muttered, putting the tape back.

"People love you, Lizzie," I answered on instinct. Having an insecure female as your best friend qualified you to deal with anything remotely difficult. "Miranda and me and your family, for one. And for another, you'll find a guy. Be patient."

"I don't know, maybe you're right, Gordo," Lizzie sniffed, standing up.

"I am?" I asked intelligently, not expecting her to listen to me. Miranda and her never had.

"I'm not ugly," she said hesitantly.

You're gorgeous.

"And I'm not dumb."

You're brilliant.

"I'm fun to be with."

You're amazing.

"And I'm sure that, somewhere, there has to be a guy that is willing to accept me for who I am."

He's sitting right next to you.

I forced a smile. "Exactly. Don't waste your time on someone who can't see that."

Right. I didn't care.

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A/N 2: The end! Finally! Sorry this took me so long. I rewrote it a dozen times or more, and I'm still not happy with it (I mean, is it me, or is it just so DRAMATIC? Maybe it's just Gordo). There will be one more chapter (I think) and then that's it. Unless you want me to leave it like this. Your choice. Yeah.

Also, I have very limited Spanglish, so please ignore the horrible Spanish sentences. And review, pleeeease! Oh, and one more thing. I'm horrible at editing my own stuff. Would anyone be willing to be my beta-reader? Email me at Mandi88139@aol.com with your ff.n name, too, if you have one. Thanks so much!

Sing to a duckbill,

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Loozie Gordork


	3. A Sticky Situation

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Sticky Mouths Make Sticky Kisses

Summary: Short, fluffy L/G ficlet. Lizzie's sick, Gordo's at the carnival, and brings her some cotton candy afterwards. Things get a bit sticky between the two. Slight AU: no movie. Cute and to the point, with major L/G. R&R please. Tell me if I should continue. 

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A/N 1: **THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU so **much for all of the reviews. I feel bad, not updating in so long after you guys were absolutely amazing with the feedback. In compensation I swear to get the fourth chapter out within the next week. Now that school is out (and almost here! Only thirty-eight or so more days! AHH!) I have LOTS of free time, which I will use to work on this.

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**Information on the beta-reader in A/N 2

I, Miranda Sanchez, vow to get my two best friends together no matter what it takes on my part. I thought for sure that when Lizzie called me that morning at four AM, explaining that she couldn't sleep and why, that that would be it—their feelings would be out in the open without any of my meddling. Yet somehow, and I'm surprised I didn't suspect it happening from the beginning, their naïveté and self-consciousness towards each other had made even a kiss like that into nothing. I love Lizzie and Gordo, I truly do, but sometimes I thought about just locking them in a closet and threatening to not let them out until they both knew the truth. The _whole_ truth.

So this was where we were left—Gordo sick, Lizzie more nervous than she ever was around Ethan Craft, and me trying to release my annoyance as I waited for the popcorn. It was a sticky situation.

__

Ding. I pulled the popcorn out and poured it into a bowl, snacking on it as I made my way upstairs. I stopped outside the closed door, trying to listen on to any conversation.

Dead silence.

It was hard to believe that two people who had known each other for thirteen years could find nothing to talk about. I walked in and they both seemed relieved to see me; Gordo had been pretending—for I sure as hell knew he wasn't getting any rest with Lizzie in the same room—to doze off, while Lizzie was otherwise busy reading the back cover of the chosen movie. Lizzie isn't the brightest bulb in the bunch, but it doesn't take her five minutes to read a single paragraph.

"Miss me?" I asked cheerfully. Fortunately they missed the sarcasm.

"Yes," they both answered quickly.

"I picked _Two Weeks Notice_." Lizzie crawled over to the VCR and popped the tape in.

Romantic comedy. Interesting. I was almost positive that Gordo had had no say in what movie we would be watching, probably because he more than likely hadn't said anything at all. So that meant that either Lizzie wasn't aware of the awkwardness that the romance could cause, or chose to ignore it; a desperate attempt to bring things back to normal, back to how they were before yesterday.

I hopped into bed next to Gordo, as Lizzie and I always did when watching movies at his house. I made sure there was no room on my side, so that she would have no choice but to sit on the other side, right next to him. But maybe I was wrong about the brightest bulb thing. Without so much as a glance at Gordo, the bed, or me, she sat down on the floor.

"Lizzie, what are you doing?" I asked bluntly. 

From the side of her face that I could barely see in the dark, she blushed deeply. "Exactly what you're doing. Watching the movie."

"No, what _you_ are doing is sitting on the floor, when you should be sitting up here with us. Now c'mon."

I noticed that Gordo was as stiff as a board. I didn't think he was even breathing.

"Thanks, but I'm comfy where I'm at." Her eyes were glued to the screen.

Did I mention I'm not known for my patience? "Enough is enough," I growled. I shoved the bowl of popcorn at Gordo, jumped down from the bed, and dragged Lizzie through the nearest possible door so I could either a) strangle her or b) sneer:

"_Lizzie!_"

"Miranda, why are we in the closet?" Lizzie said, choosing to ignore Choice B.

I noticed then that we were, and it was unmistakably Gordo's closet. I think he was the only fifteen-year-old boy in America who had a reasonably neat closet that didn't smell like moldy old socks. Probably because his mother washed and color-coded them everyday.

"We're in here, Liz, so you can get your head on straight and _tell Gordo you love him_!" I was still speaking in that low, hissing voice.

Lizzie gaped at me. "Miranda, are you nuts? Like, yeah. Love? I'm a teenager! I never said anything about loving him."

I took a deep breath. I don't think Lizzie would have handled my Spanish rambling as well as Gordo did. "Fine, Lizzie, just like. But seriously, you liking Gordo is more well-known than the sky being blue. Gordo and you seem to be the only two who don't seem to _understand that_!"

Lizzie sighed impatiently. It was a warm night to begin with and the space we were stuffed into was cramped, with pointed pieces of bureaus and shelves poking us. I may have been a bit more happy if it were Gordo in here instead of me, as I had said earlier, and they were poetically proclaiming their newfound love. Or at least kissing.

"_I_ understand it perfectly. Didn't we just have this talk outside his bedroom? _I _am not the problem! Gordo is—"

"Gordo is what?"

The closet doors were open, and Gordo was standing—however unstable—in front of the glow of the TV, giving him a slightly eerie look.

"Uh…Very sick!" I hastily mended, pushing him towards his bed. "What are you doing up? Don't move! You'll vomit!"

"What's with all the whispering? Why were you two in the closet? What's going on?" Gordo demanded, refusing to move despite how green he suddenly looked.

"Lizzie was upset," I lied.

Gordo gave me a look—that look that meant he knew I wasn't telling the truth. "About what?" he said slowly.

"About—about missing the movie! She was upset that she was missing the movie!" I told him, as if Lizzie weren't standing there looking paler than usual.

"Then why didn't she just come out of my closet and watch the movie?" Gordo looked over at Lizzie now, who promptly looked down at her feet.

"Good idea!" I exclaimed a little louder than necessary. "Let's all watch the movie and forget we ever interrupted. Sound okay?"

Lizzie nodded mutely and laid down on the right side of the bed, back leaning against the pillows propped on the headboard. Gordo nodded, too, and being the sick one, climbed under the covers. Right in the middle. Right next to Lizzie.

I hid a smile. Maybe we were getting somewhere after all.

It was a disaster. Halfway through, before we could even reach the romantic part, Gordo decided he couldn't keep his saltine crackers down, and ran to the bathroom to puke them up. Lizzie, also deciding she wasn't quite better yet, threw up in the sink when she tried to help Gordo up from the toilet and saw its contents. 

That left me to first rinse out the sink and flush the toilet, but to also help my friends wash out their mouths and brush their teeth. Parents can be annoying, but I hoped for the sake of the sick ones and myself (I wasn't willing to see anymore regurgitated food) that they would be back soon from wherever they happened to be.

Lizzie assured us she was fine, and after a few more splashes of water to the face, was holding a wet rag to Gordo's forehead while I was downstairs making him some hot tea. 

So Plan A: Getting Them to Speak to Each Other didn't work as well as I hoped it would, if at all, seeing as Gordo couldn't open his mouth without letting out a bit more than just words.

Well…What would Plan B be?

"Miranda!"

I looked up; Lizzie was standing at the top of the stairs.

"You've been down there forever. Isn't the tea ready yet?"

"Coming, coming," I mumbled, putting the teabag in the warm mug and carrying it up to Gordo's bedroom.

Lizzie was sitting on the edge of the bed, and this time it seemed as though Gordo truthfully was falling asleep. I placed the drink on the bedside table for later. "I guess this makes me the cook."

"This is all your fault, you know," Lizzie said. She still looked pale. "If you had just butt out—"

I stared at her as if she were crazy. "Butt out? You were the one who called me! And I'm just trying to help, Lizzie."

"Helping is not _forcing_ my feelings on him." She jerked her head towards the sleeping Gordo.

"_Forcing your feelings on him_?" I was in disbelief.

"Stop repeating me!"

"Stop acting so childish!"

"Stop trying to get Gordo to like me!"

Could she honestly think that he didn't like her? What about Ethan's Murder Mystery Party over a year ago? The way she had told it to me, she had gotten it through her head loud and clear that Gordo had a crush on her. I knew she couldn't forget something like I that.

"Lizzie, are you being modest or just stupid? If Gordo doesn't like you then I'm a famous pop star."

Lily groaned, turning away. I knew Lizzie long enough to know her inner struggle: _How could Gordo like _me_ of all people?_ "If…if he liked me then why did he practically _run_ out of my room yesterday?"

"He was scared," I said simply. It was probably the truth. "Lizzie, you remember how obsessed we were with Ethan in junior high? Well, imagine you going over his house and he suddenly kissed you. Would you sit there and giggle?"

"Well…no," she admitted.

"Exactly. Give Gordo a chance. He'll come around."

Lizzie looked over at Gordo and nodded, pushing her bangs away from her face. "Yeah. Maybe. Anyway, I think we should go," she suggested. "He should get some sleep."

I agreed. We gathered our bags and raincoats, turned the TV off and pushed Gordo's puke bucket closer to the bed, incase it was desperately needed when he woke up.

As Lizzie and I left, I had to fight very hard not to grin, scream, dance around in the rain—I wasn't stupid. Gordo, obviously, was.

"Liz, wait," I said suddenly, just as she was about to open the front door. "I left my cell phone in Gordo's room. Let me go grab it."

I ran up the stairs and opened the door slowly. Gordo's eyes were still closed.

"Mr. Gordon, although I don't approve of your eavesdropping or fake sleeping, I have to say that the ball's in your court now, so don't miss your chance."

He still didn't move, although I was almost sure the ends of his mouth were higher than they had been a moment ago.

"And just for the record," I continued, "sick or not, don't pretend as if you aren't the happiest boy in America right now."

I joined Lizzie again and smiled secretively, choosing to quote my sick best friend. "All systems go."

****

A/N 2: YAY! I'M DONE! Okay, I know I said this would be the last chapter, but there's only one more after this. This was also the last chapter that begins with "I, (insert name), vow to (insert verb)." *sniff* I'm going to miss this story. 

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About the beta-reader: Thank you to everyone who emailed me. I got almost two dozen responses and I appreciated them **all**. Unfortunately, before I was able to sort through them, I left for vacation. Stupidly, I forgot that AOL only keeps my read email for only seven days before deleting it. When I got back, the emails were gone and so I have no one to choose from. **I'm so sorry to be asking again**, but if you would like to be my beta-reader, please email me at Mandi88139@aol.com. I won't make the same stupid mistake again! Thank you! :)

Mango Tango Kangaroo,

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Loozie Gordork (Mandi)


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